Looking Forward
My hair is wet and drips. Water collects
breeze-chilled
in the small of my back.
The time is half-past
bittersweet. The day ends simply
and begins. Exhausted, refreshed,
optimistic for revival. The temperature
recovers after slight retreat. The fog
lifts, forms overhead
shapes. Wind-battered,
but today’s air is crisp, restores,
calls to focus on.
Stillness centers. Today is a pause
from chaotic middleground. Serial actions to be
summarized. What comes next?
Horizontal, paused. Eyes align
to eyes to outweigh otherwise
disorder. Breathe—just overhear the room.
Voices and laughter replaced
silence and afterthoughts replaced
voices and laughter. Chatter
casually collects to fill time until
silence, glances upward, thinking.
A smile ascertains. An eye squint questions.
A smile agrees. There are those unfortunate
occurrences, the futures barely missed, and
tragedies haphazardly stacked until
Something. Two plans entwine, toss aside,
your eyes align with mine. We, so-called,
could name it fate, due to shared confusion, or perhaps—
Moving In
the palette of colors contained within
combine to form
one space. Blending
warm and cool
slate grey, timberwolf
smoke swirl-disperses kaleidoscopic
in a still room. Typewritten words lie
on a crumpled page, batted—
there is static as a record starts a second side
a pulse presses skin against skin
to pace repeated notes
twice more than thought, once before
too much. Somewhere outside is overcast blind,
but light catches angles through my windows
casting shapes;
reds and yellows, auburn autumns
crisping, crunching underfeet
giving reason for a pause.
The temperature has breathing room:
inhale, I stretch my lungs;
exhale, blow eyelashes from fingertips—
for consistency,
as ever all else changes.